74 ST James's Street, Brighton BN2 1PA
The stereo plays a healthy rotation of be-bop, vintage ska, cool jazz, delta blues, 30s/40s/50s vocal greats and contemporary beat music to whet your whistle.
Live, acoustic performances of rhythm&blues and soul through the week.
Once upon a time...
The Black Dove was born in Vatican City where he and his brethren were bred to work in service of the pope (flying round saint peter’s square and all that for dramatic effect). However when the Directors of the Dove Diocese saw his curious colouration they decided he was unfit for the purpose of serving the pope and must be dispatched immediately. Unwilling to taint their own hands with the blood of the innocent they schemed to have the other doves attack him in his sleep, pinning him down and beating him with bars of soap inside socks (ironically they were to use Dove soap for this task). However the Black Dove was no fool and he crept away at nightfall, evading the ever watchful Swiss Guard and eventually finding his way to the catacombs beneath the city. Whilst plotting his revenge in the shadows our feathered hero encountered a renegade innkeeper who had gone underground having incurred the wrath of the church by serving hearty British ales and west country cider to a company of callous cardinals.
Beneath the mask of hatred and betrayal the Innkeeper saw great promise in the young dove and sought to channel his rage into more productive pursuits such as raiding the Vatican cellars, expert cocktail making and drinking uncommon quantities of alcohol. In time the Innkeeper taught the Black Dove everything he knew of the publican’s craft and during one late night drinking session he managed to convince the young dove to forsake his plans of revenge and seek out a new life in a land where his skills would be appreciated. The Black Dove vaguely understood the Innkeepers slurred speech, particularly his words of warning about powerlessness of one young dove in the church, and so he journeyed north through France, stopping only to participate in an intensive wine appreciation course, before finally coming to roost in the chimney of this very establishment. If you put your ear to the wall and listen very closely you can hear him espousing his peerless wisdom on bartending, cursing the pope and mumbling drunkenly to himself from his lofty vantage point on the roof.
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